If Your Fate Depended on a Cat
by wouldsomebody
Summary: MY version of Seussical, going "behind the scenes" and adding in new characters! What happens when we pay more attention to Jojo and The Cat in the Hat! And what went down after the finale? Prepare for a wild ride full of mischief, rhyming, and melodrama
1. The Hat

**I decided to write this because i LOVE this play and i was bored and had the songs stuck in my head. Soooo. . .yeah. Enjoy! OH WAIT YEAH I NEED A DISCLAIMER!!!!!!!!!! WOOPS!**

**Disclaimer: I (unfortunately -_-) don't own Seussical or any of the songs in it. I also don't own any of Dr. Seuss's characters or stories or whatever. No copyright infringement intended. . . =D**

Jojo was walking along, minding his own business, when he suddenly tripped.

Tripping for Jojo is not as easy as it is for you and me. You see, he didn't really know who or where he was, how he came to be, or how long he had _been_. He had never encountered anything substantial enough to trip over, and therefore the act of actually falling over a solid object was a very big event indeed. Nothing interesting had happened to him until the very moment he felt himself falling through the air, so that two-second rush of air and the hard impact of the ground against his face was quite the fascinating occurrence.

Jojo looked around to see what he could have possibly tripped over and saw, of all things, a Hat.

It wasn't any old hat. This hat was THE Hat. The kind of Hat Jojo imagined that if he wrote the word "hat" onto a slip of paper while referring to this specific piece of headgear, he would write it with a capital "H". The Hat was an abnormally tall top hat, and was a bit scrunched at the top, as if it was worn by a very tall person and was frequently being bumped into the ceiling or the tops of doorways. It was colored white, but had three thick, bright red stripes decorating its "pipe". Jojo got up and tentatively picked up the Hat. It was both stiff and supple at the same time, and was slightly warm, as if it had only recently been removed from its owner's head.

"Now THAT is a very unusual Hat . . ." muttered Jojo to himself. He couldn't think of one single person who would wear a Hat like that one. He turned it over in his hands a few times and then, hesitantly, placed it on his head.

Then suddenly, a white-gloved hand shot out of nowhere and pulled him into the craziest story he could have possibly been a part of.

*********************************************************************************************************************

**Like it? I didn't really try while writing it. . .so yeah. I'll eventually write more (probably) and am keeping the rating high because my perverted mind will probably get ideas to put in that wouldn't be appropriate for some age groups. . .XD welllllllllll anyways review if you like it or i will jab you with a spork!! HAHA FEAR THE SPORK!!!!!!!!!!! :-D **


	2. A Mischievous Master of Ceremonies

**aLrighty, Here's the edited version of chapter 2. I basically replaced the swearing with more Jojo-esque expletives, because as My faithful reviewer ****Gleek of the World ****said, "I don't think Jojo would swear a lot." Rating won't change though, for future stuff.**

**Disclaimer: I (unfortunately -_-) don't own Seussical or any of the songs in it. I also don't own any of Dr. Seuss's characters or stories or whatever. No copyright infringement intended. . . =D**

Jojo found himself inside a house.

_What? Where am I? What is this? _

_Oh, ho, ho, ho, are you thinking what I'm thinking, little Jojo?_

Jojo whirled around, his heart pumping wildly. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar room in search of the whimsical, mischievous voice that sounded as if it was reciting a child's poem. He could have sworn he had heard it in his mind, responding to his thoughts, just a moment ago. His eyes met with, however, not the strange telepathic speaker, but the contents of the room– which were rather unusual to behold to say the least.

On one hand, the items in the room were perfectly normal for what the small, circular room seemed to serve purpose for. The room, which appeared to Jojo to be a bedroom for someone around his age, contained a bed, bedside table and lamp, rug, bookcase filled with books, an easel with paints, and a very large window looking onto a dark suburban street. On the other hand, the actual appearance of the items bewildered him. The bed was bright orange with blue polka dots and sported a matching, very fuzzy bedspread, and had a small set of stairs leading up to it. The rug was multicolored, as well as the bedside table and lamp, and the bookshelf was shaped like a fish. The window was triangular, and the walls and ceiling of the room were painted with the same pattern of the Hat– white, with thick, bright red stripes.

Speaking of the Hat, where the heck _was _it?!

Jojo, upon registering the colors and patterns on the walls, had reached up to the top of his head automatically and discovered, to his shock, that the Hat was no longer there. His eyes widened and he tried to recall what had happened directly after he had placed the Hat on his head.

- He had picked up the Hat and put it on.

- He had felt something grab his wrist and he looked down to see a white-gloved had attached to an arm wearing something with black sleeves.

- He had been pulled swiftly backward and his feet came out from under him.

- He had heard a delighted, impish laugh as he was pulled into random swirling colors.

- He had found himself standing upright in this odd bedroom, which he now had a nagging feeling was his own.

"You got that right, kid."

For the second time, Jojo did a one-eighty and this time, he was rewarded with the sight of his mysterious kidnapper.

Once again, quite unusual to say the least.

Standing more than six feet tall– a good two-and-a-half feet taller than the diminutive Jojo– and leaning on a dark blue umbrella, was a . . . well, he looked like a young man, no more than eighteen or nineteen– except for a few small details. He had the black pointy ears, black nose, whiskers, and long black tail of a cat.

Jojo gaped.

The . . . erm . . . cat's (?) eyes sparkled with playful mischief, and a sly grin was spread across his face, like a trouble-making teenage boy. He wore a black tuxedo decorated with a jaunty, oversized red bow tie, and those white gloves. From his apparel, you'd think he was a Master of Ceremonies, ready to introduce a performance– but for two details. The first was the random, bright red Converse sneakers he wore on his feet (_Of all frigging things_! thought Jojo, making the cat [?] inwardly laugh.) The second was the Hat he wore on his head.

I know what you're thinking, and you're right.

Jojo gaped wider.

"I know that you're shocked, frightened, apprehensive– but you mustn't be, no. 'Cause that would make it hard to go on with the show!" declared the cat, striding around the room and poking things with his umbrella. "It's rather rude to stare," he added with amusement, and Jojo snapped his mouth quickly shut.

"Wh-what d'you mean?! What show?! Where am I, and how did I get here?! And– who _are_ you?!" Jojo stuttered, completely confused. The cat grinned and suddenly appeared right in front of Jojo– who promptly fell backwards onto the bed.

"Call me the Cat– the Cat in the Hat! I came from your thoughts! And as for your thoughts– there are lots, lots, lots!" quipped the Cat in the Hat. "I can see that for Thinking you've got quite a flair– "

"I do? What? I'M CONFUSED!" cried Jojo. "And the rhyming hurts my head, so– "

" – why one Think, and you dragged me right out of thin air!" he continued.

"Rhymes! Why the rhymes?!" Jojo whimpered to himself, before doing a double take. "Wait– what? You mean . . . I created you?"

"Yep! You most certainly did." confirmed the Cat, dragging Jojo off the bed and over to the window. "You are one imaginative kid!" He tapped the window with his umbrella rather hard, and it abruptly smashed. Jojo let out a yell and ducked as glass shards rained down on them, but to his astonishment the glass completely missed them, leaving two perfect circles of glass-free carpet on the bedroom floor.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF _SEUSS_ DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!" Jojo bellowed, and the Cat merely shrugged and smiled and evil, evil smile. Jojo had a sudden fearful thought that his mom and dad had heard the crash, and then he thought, _Wait– since when have I had parents??!!_

The Cat seemed to know what Jojo was thinking, and his smile widened. "Coincidentally, your parents did hear that," he laughed, and randomly cartwheeled over to the door. "But I don't think they'd take to a six-foot cat." He grinned again, tipped his Hat, and turned on his heel to leave.

Now, for Jojo, that just about did it.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Jojo shouted, sprinting across the room and tackling the Cat (who, for someone being tackled by a very angry person nearly half his size looked only mildly surprised, which was very creepy). They both fell through the doorway and landed in a bright purple hallway. The two suddenly heard exasperated voices and footsteps. _Oh crap_, thought Jojo, _that's my parents_. He looked at the Cat and whispered furiously into his face, "Just _stop with the rhyming!_" Just then, an oddly dressed man and woman entered the hall and began storming toward them.

"Woops, bad timing!" rhymed the Cat again, with an expression that said _oh, would ya look at the time! _"Well, catch ya later, gotta go– " he paused, leaped up, and looked directly into the face of **YOU,** the **READER** of this story **(=D),** and in the tone of a devilish emcee coming to the conclusion of an opening speech, said, "And as for _you_, enjoy the show!" With that, he tipped his hat again, this time directed at the audience (a.k.a., the reader), spun around, and disappeared.

Jojo took one look at his "audience" (that's what I'm calling the reader from now on), and groaned.

Not, however, before he heard two angry voices shout, "JOJO!"

Jojo banged his head against the floor.

Somewhere in the universe of Dr. Seuss, the Cat in the Hat was laughing his head off.

**Hahahahaha I think Jojo's a little bit bipolar! **_***cough* **_**ALOT **_***cough***_

**LoL. Anywayz, ****please review****! You'll get cookies! ^-^**

**Oh and for anyone who doesn't know, an "emcee" is just a synonym for Master of Ceremonies. =)**


	3. You've Got Mail!

***Lets out a deeeeeep sigh* Whew! Well, here you have it, everyone! You can all eat me alive for not updating in, what, 3 months? Sorry this chapter is a bit filler-y, but i had to change it after the first version got deleted . . . painful memories. *shudders* Ah well. Oh and BTW, I'm going to be adding in OC's, so if you have a fan character, or want a version of yourself in teh story, PM me about it! I'm open to suggestions! Don't get too hopefull though, and if I DO use someone you've come up with, I'll probably tweak them a little bit. Don't hate me.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Seussical, The Cat in the Hat would be teaching all my classes at school, Jojo would be my lil bro, and McGelligot's Pool would be in my backyard.**

Quite a lot of adjectives could be used to describe Jojo's new (or at least he thought it was new; somehow he had memories and knew the daily routine, but still felt the confusion one tends to feel when one opens a novel to the middle and starts reading at random) life, but _pleasant_ couldn't be considered one of them.

Neither could "peaceful".

In fact, the word "peaceful" seemed to have dropped completely out of Jojo's descriptive vocabulary, thanks to a certain oddball feline.

That first, rather memorable meeting hadn't exactly warmed the boy to the Cat, but afterwards when the dapper fellow had introduced Jojo to all of his Thinks via song a la Broadway musicale, the kid had begun to wonder about his six-foot acquaintance.

I mean, seriously– wouldn't you?

* * *

Dear Dr. Seuss,

What is this? What's going on? I don't remember ever existing here on Who . . . but I do at the same time– remember, that is . . . If that makes any kind of sense. Though, come to think of it, not much of anything makes sense around here. I mean, I don't remember it having ever made sense before. . . not that I remember anything about life here at all . . . which also doesn't make sense . . . AAARGGGH I'M CONFUSED!

And that . . . that _Cat_ just makes everything so much worse! Popping up out of thin air! And when I'm in the BATHTUB!! Does that give any sense of decency to you?! Plus, he keeps playing around with my head and my life, as if he were a conductor and the world is his orchestra. Hmm . . . That's a good way of putting it. Yeah, everything around me is just one big orchestra, and the music is getting faster and faster, louder and louder. It's going to reach a crescendo some time soon, I just know it, and when that happens, the song will end on one heck of a note.

* * *

Dripping and shivering with cold, Jojo collapsed in the entrance hall of his home, barely managing to kick the front door shut behind him. Heart tap dancing in his chest and breath coming in erratic gasps, the small boy forced himself up into a sitting position, leaning against an enormous umbrella stand, which really more closely resembled an oversized graduated cylinder. You know those things you used in science class in sixth grade? Ah, sixth grade. Heh, I remember this one time . . . ahem. Back to the story.

"Jojo, sweetie, is that you? What happened at school? Anything new?" A matronly woman's voice drifted from the kitchen, along with the tantalizing scent of bashed potatoes and roast beast.

_She's cooking dinner already?_ wondered Jojo, frowning. The most he had gathered from his short time with his family was that everyday life was strictly scheduled. Each day went by in the same methodical manner, and was timed to the point where you would see all the cars on the street pulling out of their driveways simultaneously to drive to work in the morning. To tell the truth, it freaked Jojo out. Not to mention how boring it could be.

So for Mrs. Mayor to be preparing supper at such an early time– _it couldn't even be a quarter to three_ Jojo thought, before realizing with horror he had just rhymed– was something to be curious about.

Desperate for some spice in the bland mush of what he was coming to think of as his own personal "Well-Organized Hell", Jojo hopped up and hurried down the hall to the kitchen. When he walked through the triangular doorway he witnessed a scene right out of the cooking channel: rows of sliced up vegetables next to various dressings surrounded a large bowl, waiting to be thrown together in a salad; there was the steaming bowl of bashed potatoes smothered with butter and sour cream. Mrs. Mayor was taking out a huge leg of roast beast on a platter from the oven, and set it on the table next to a magnificent, perfectly molded fruit gelatin dessert piece.

She turned around and smiled tiredly at her son, plopping down into a chair and rubbing her eyes. "So, what happened at school?" she asked, glancing at Jojo.

"What? Oh, uh, not much . . ." he stammered. He really didn't want to talk about it. "Um, why are you making dinner at three o'clock?"

His mother frowned. "Don't you remember? Your father and I told you last night. Were you Thinking again while we were talking? Oh, dear, that's just not right." She stood up and began to drop the veggies into the salad bowl, shaking her head. Jojo bit his lip nervously.

"The Head Chairman McCaffrey and his wife Daphne are coming tonight at six. Your father's in a tizzy, he's so _very_ busy, so dinner's my duty to fix." Mrs. Mayor finished scraping the slices into the bowl, and began to toss the salad, adding dressing as she did so. "This is a very important dinner for your father, considering he's just been elected; him and the Chairman have many things to discuss, and not one part of tonight can be neglected. Everything must go according to plan." She paused, and looked her son straight in the face. Jojo squirmed in discomfort; her eyes had an almost pleading look about them. "Oh, Jojo, please don't let your Thoughts get out of hand."

"I . . . uh . . ."

"Your father and I have told you before, your Thinks get you into trouble galore! They interfere at school, make your dad look like a fool; destroyed the bathroom, flooded the den– come now, we don't want to go through all _that_ again!" Getting more and more worked up as she said this, Mrs. Mayor actually seemed frightened now. Her mouth twisted with worry, and her hands were trembling. The salad bowl was in danger of crashing to the ground.

Jojo felt sick.

"Mrs– eh, m-mom. Don't worry. I'm trying real hard." He walked around the squiggly shaped island in the kitchen where most of the food preparation was taking place, and stood on his tiptoes to take the bowl from his mother.

She blinked and came to her senses, quickly wiping her palms on her apron. She needed something to do with her hands. "I hope so, Jojo, I really do. Otherwise . . ." Mrs Mayor turned back to the food, and gazed around the neat little kitchen, eyes suddenly sad. "Otherwise I don't know what we're going to do with you." The latter was uttered so quietly that Jojo was sure it hadn't been meant for him. That didn't take away from how much it hurt.

A lump rose up in his throat, and the small boy's eyes stung. Swallowing hard, he managed to say, "I-If you need any help with dinner, I-I'll be in my room." He quickly ran out of the kitchen, nearly knocking over a flustered Mr. Mayor as he went. The well-meaning politician had come home unnoticed.

Mr Mayor walked over to his wife and put a hand on her shoulder. They both had the same lost expressions on their faces. Mrs. Mayor looked off, and sang as if to an invisible audience:

"_He was mommy's little boy . . ." _

Mr Mayor nodded, and continued nostalgically, _"He was daddy's little man."_

Together, they lamented, _"He was never any trouble 'till this_ Thinking _thing began!"_

"_We must both lay down the law," _stated Mr Mayor rather halfheartedly.

"_Will he hate us?"_ was the tearful response?

"_Maybe so."_

Both turned to each other, and then to you guys, our faithful readers, as if looking for help, _"Oh, where are the instructions on how to raise a child, who has the instructions on how to raise a child, who has all the answers?! I don't know!" _The flummoxed parents fell into chairs, looking rather miserable.

A loud rapping came at the front door.

"Who could that possibly be?!" cried Mrs Mayor.

"Not the Chairman– why, it isn't yet quarter past three!" puzzled the Mayor. He got up and hastened into the main hall to open the door. His wife scurried after him, also anxious.

On the jaunty welcome mat stood a very tall, well-dressed young man with a red bow tie and curiously feline features. He tipped his striped top-hat at the married couple and flashed Mrs Mayor an enchanting smile. She promptly blushed, which did not go unnoticed by Mr Mayor, who drew himself up to his full height– hardly clearing the eccentric stranger's shoulders– and asked rather gruffly, "What is it I can do for you?"

The tall man was obviously trying very hard not to laugh. "Well, sir, I got this here mail today," he said, holding up some envelopes, "and they weren't addressed to me. They were meant for house three-hundred-and-three." He pointed to the large number 303 engraved on the front door. "So I thought that I'd be neighborly and spare you all the lost-mail worry."

Taken aback, Mr Mayor took the mail from the odd man and said in a grudgingly grateful voice, "Well, thanks a ton." He looked up and tried to find anything familiar about the guy, but could not. "Say," he asked slowly, "What's your name, son?"

The man's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I'm sure you know me. I've been a guest at your house, you see."

Mrs and Mr Mayor stared at him, bemused.

"What? When?" They asked in unison. The man merely chuckled.

"You're welcome again, and good luck with those Chairmen!" he quipped, winking at Mr Mayor, whose mouth dropped open. The man danced down the steps, laughing, and disappeared down the street.

The bewildered coupled looked at each other as they closed the door. "Well, he was . . . quite the character. Haven't seen him around before; that last part was a bit alarming." said the Mayor.

"Yes . . ." Mrs Mayor acknowledged absently. "And he was, in a way, rather charming . . ." Mr Mayor scowled, and she quickly changed the subject.

"Let's look through this mail, shall we, dearie?" the Who lady inquired, leading her husband back into the kitchen.

"Alright, then . . ." Mr Mayor began sorting through the papers. "Junk mail, bills, junk mail, bills, a letter from Bartholomew Cubbins– haven't heard from him in a while– junk mail . . . ah, what's this?" He held up what seemed to be a formal brochure. The title read, "General Genghis Kahn Smit's Military Reform School for Boys."

The two parents' eyes widened as they shared a glance. They hesitantly began to read the small informational piece on the cover.

"'_As a parent, are you overwhelmed? Insecure?'_"

The Cat in the Hat watched from his little niche in space and time, and wondered out loud, "Hmm . . . I wonder where this'll lead us?"

A grin spread across his face. "Somewhere interesting, that's for sure!"

**Like it? Hate it? Remember, reviews the world go round, not money! Dont listen to that German guy from Cabaret!**

**Hahaha, a note on that whole Mrs Mayor/Cat thing, XD well I've always pictured the Cat as being a smooth talker, sooo. . . yeah. I laughed while writing that. Who knew he was such a ladies man! LOL okay I'm gonna leave now ^_^' **


	4. A Man With a Plan

**Well, here we are! Another filler chapter *slaps self*, but I really had to go back and explain, as well as introduce some OC's! And no, to whoever it was who inboxed me this request (if you're reading this right now) Thing One and Thing Two will NOT be coming into the story . . . yet. Be patient!**

*****SPECIAL CHALLENGE***:**** If any of you people can spot the reference to "The Dark Knight" in here, not only will you gain my awe and admiration (it's a REALLY subtle reference) but I will write a chapter of this story entirely based on whatever you want me to! (I'll make it work with the story, I promise.) GOOD LUCK AND HAPPY READING!!**

**Disclaimer: I have less of a chance of owning Seussical than Heath Ledger had of attending **_**The Dark Knight**_** movie premier. R.I.P. Heath Ledger! I LOVE YOU!!! D'=**

* * *

_The Jungle of Nool, Several Weeks Earlier_

It was raining, but I didn't mind. I had my trusty blue umbrella gripped in my hand, durable navy cloth spread out above my hat as a shield against the unforgiving torrent of droplets. I was always prepared.

Actually, _prepared_ would be an understatement. I make a distinct effort to be constantly ahead of the game. This, my friends, I would strongly advise you to always be, as it will greatly benefit you in quite a few ways. Except maybe socially. For some reason being ten steps ahead of everyone else has gotten me nothing but annoyance and frustration from anyone I come into contact with. Ludicrous really; they should be showering me with admiration. I've always found it amusing how silly people can be. So I'll laugh, crack a witty joke to lighten up the mood, but that just aggravates them even more!

Ha! And you think_ I'm _touched in the head!

The streets of Nool aren't paved, and therefore become extremely messy in bad weather. My Converse were going to regret this. I quickened my long strides, strolling past families of anthropomorphic jungle creatures who were all hastening to get back home before it started thundering. Most of them didn't give me a single glance; however, I noticed a few of the younger children staring at me wide-eyed. I did a bunch of cartwheels for their entertainment, and when they stopped to watch, laughing, their parents or other elder guardian grabbed them and hurried them along. I felt a bit sad, thinking about how bored these poor kids would be cooped up in a house all day with absolutely no creative encouragement or stimuli, but I didn't have time to be making house calls.

Finally, I reached a sign reading "RIVER WALOO, NORTHWEST BEND NUMBER 2: 300 FEET". It pointed down a path lined by banana trees.

Wickersham territory.

Not that_ I_ had anything to worry about; it was highly improbable that any of them would be able to see me– monkeys have very little imagination. No, I was more concerned that I'd walk into one of their bullying sessions and feel obliged to intervene. I really couldn't afford to lose any more time. I'd already pushed my luck far enough by putting the Whos in limbo while I positioned them where they needed to be for Scene One, not to mention creating a time lapse so that it would seem to Jojo as if we had simply skipped straight from my introductory number to "coloring in" the Jungle of Nool. ("Coloring in" is my own little phrase for touching up, redefining, giving character to, et cetera.) Right now, I needed to find the breeze which would be blowing past Horton precisely three minutes and seventeen seconds from where I would be ending the time lapse and bringing the Whos out of their frozen state.

Turning onto the path, my sensitive nose was immediately attacked the overwhelming smell of bananas. My whiskers twitched as I wrinkled my nose and I sped up again. I've never particularly liked bananas– in fact, I'm not fond of food in general. Of course, I have to occasionally eat just like everyone else, but I try to do so as little as possible. I don't have to eat as much as the average person because I'm a Think and . . . well, I won't bore you with a lecture.

I have to say, though, that even the most avid banana lover would probably be repelled by the scent that was saturating the air in this part of the jungle. As I made my way down the lane I had to maneuver around piles of banana peels and squashed, rotting hunks of the fruit that were strewn everywhere. Those Wickershams are such slobs. Plus, a few of the monkey brothers were scrambling around chasing each other, and dodging around the rambunctious boys was proving difficult even for me.

I know what you're thinking! Why don't I just Think myself to my destination and save myself the trouble? Well, I'm glad to know that you're using those brains of yours, because that's a good question. See, Thinking has a logic to it. Which is why it's Thinking. One can't just poof themselves somewhere when they don't know the exact location. If you want to do that, it requires having already seen, in person, the place you want to go and/or the thing or person you want to find, along with a whole darn lot of talent.

You can't learn to be a Thinker. As they say, you either got it or you ain't.

I had almost reached the end of the path; the river Waloo was in sight, turquoise currents rippling and bubbling from the drizzle sloshing down on it. Breaking into an impatient run, I pranced lightly down the remainder of the path, twirled around a tree that marked the final bend, and . . .

. . . quickly grabbed onto a limb and skidded to a halt to avoid bowling the gaggle of people blocking the way.

Two wickedly grinning Wickershams, decked out in their trademark leather jackets with the W's emblazoned on the backs– rather tacky, by the way (Whaaaat? I can't have fashion sense?)– were leaning up against the trees flagging the end of the path. Their tails were outstretched, barring the space in between to prevent two people from entering and going back the opposite way I had come.

Those two people were bird girls. One of them was the exact bird girl stereotype: Brightly colored, tall, curvy, impressively feathered tail, the lithe body of a dancer. She wore the typical flashy dress and heels, and like myself held a large umbrella. Her feathers were electric blue.

The other girl was not so stereotypical. She was pixie-like in stature, and had little figure to speak of. The color of her feathers was also blue, but much less vibrant– more of a soft gray-blue. Though her tail was also fully feathered, it was not nearly so well-preened. In fact the girl had an overall ruffled appearance, and her outfit was an oversized, paint-splattered smock.

It just so happened that as I made my wonderfully dramatic entrance the pixie-bird was the only one who looked up. Eyes that had previously been glaring at the Wickersham brother who was currently speaking flew to me and seemed to pop open. Her mouth dropped open a bit, and her head twisted from side to side to take in the reactions of the other three, but there were no reactions to take in. Dawning on her that I was invisible to everyone else, Pixie continued to stare at me incredulously.

I grinned. _Curious._

Of course my smile slipped a bit when I saw that her expression was also frightened. You know, like _freaked out _frightened. I don't like to scare people, I'm not like that . . . alright, you can stop looking at me like that! Fine, I have my moments, but it's all in good fun. But that's besides the point. What about me could possibly inspire fear? I'm not particularly intimidating or creepy looking. Am I? Hey, why are you laughing?! Hmm . . . maybe . . . An thought struck me.

I stepped closer, lowering my umbrella. I smiled crookedly. "Is it the hat?"

She jumped at the sound of my voice, and let out a surprised expletive. The monkeys and the other bird looked at her with "What the heck" expressions, and since I couldn't let such a great opportunity for creating mayhem pass me by, I decided to make my presence known to one and all.

"Excuse me If I'm being rude, but I think it's time for me to intrude." I poked the Wickershams with my umbrella to get their attention, snickering slightly when I heard the other bird's shriek of shock and stuttering "W-Who are YOU?!!". The monkeys automatically snarled at me and advanced in what they obviously thought was a menacing manner, which only made me laugh. I shook the tree limb I was still holding on to, which was connected to a water-covered leafy branch directly over our heads, and drenched the monkeys and Bird Girl Stereotype in the freezing drops. Their expressions forced me into a peal of laughter. I noticed that Pixie looked rather amused as well.

"Ugh! First you stupid Wickershams, than this . . . cat! Well, we need to get home, and that, morons, is _that_!" Tall Bird Girl had finally lost it, I guess. "C'mon, sissy!" She gripped her sister (as she now seemed to be) by the shoulder and stormed up the path.

The monkey brothers glowered at me, but I raised my eyebrows and they seemed to notice the gap of about half a foot in our heights. Either that or I let off thatprovocation-will-bounce-right-offa-me-aura because they reluctantly lumbered away. Satisfied, I swiftly straightened myself out and turned on my heel to continue on my way.

"Hey, hold on a sec!" A breathless female voice, slightly distant, rose up over the incessant rain. I smirked. Had 'em running back to me, did I? I let her come right up to me before abruptly spinning around and facing the girl. She stumbled back a few feet, startled. I grabbed her hand and began to shake it profusely.

"No thanks necessary; as for the future, keep yourself wary– maybe next time take another route. And tell your sister from me that she needs to chill out." I let go of her hand, and bowed slightly. "Lovely meeting you, Miss . . .?"

Pixie Bird's countenance remained bemused for a moment before she realized I had asked a question. "It's Quinzy."And then, for some inexplicable reason, a small grin bloomed across her feathery face. And it was_ mischievous. _

Now that paused me. That smile was something you would see on MY face. This could be interesting. "Actually, thanking you wasn't the only reason I came back."

Oh really? I cocked my head at her. "Oh really?"

"Nope." Quinzy walked toward me rolling her shoulders, stood on her tiptoes, face determined, started leaning in–

– and slapped me across the face.

"That's for having the NERVE to feel me up with your eyes, PERV!" Her voice was angry, but I caught the twinkle in her eyes before she strutted back up the path. I rubbed my cheek, grimacing. Talking about being stronger than you look.

Just about to leave my line of sight, Quincy stopped and called cheekily over her shoulder, "Love the Hat, by the way. And those Converse simply made my day!" With that, she disappeared around the corner.

Well.

For once in my life, I had nothing to say.

I definitely had a lot to think about, though. I had a hunch that this wouldn't be the last time I saw this girl. I was impressed– you had to appreciate that unpredictability.

My face arranged itself in a roguish grin (not without throbbing pain coming from my left cheekbone) as I was reminded of why I had received the blow. I must have been examining her features a bit more intently than I had realized at the time.

Heh. No time to think about that now. There were places to go, lives to complicate. And all that was going to start with a little speck of dust.

I briskly began walking again, leaped over the river Waloo and tossed the home of the Whos in the air. Suddenly the sky cleared and Jungle life came crashing about with a sudden brightness, as if time and space had been slowed to a crawl and suddenly bounced back to normal. A tiny, excited Who-boy appeared next to me, and a placid elephant wearing an Argyle sweater came out of the thicket of trees.

That's my cue!

"And our story begins with a very strange sound . . ."

**

* * *

**

**Me: HUZZAH!! That was insanely fun to write. I hope you people saw the Dark Knight reference! I felt very clever making it . ..**

**Cat: OOOHH!!! I SAW IT I SAW IT I SAW IT!!!! IT WAS– OOMPH! *Softly Spoken Heart shoves a hand over his mouth***

**Me: You be quiet! I thought you LIKED surprises?**

**Cat: *pouting* well, yeah, but . . .**

**Me: *sigh* *suddenly realizes something* WAIT A SECOND!!!!! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!??? GET THE HELL BACK INSIDE MY HEAD!!**

**Cat: *smirks* Would you like me to get inside any other part of you?**

**Me: O_O *starts twitching violently***

**Cat: GAHAHA!! Just kidding! *starts twirling in circles***

**Me: *weak smile* Uh. . .right. *twitch* Just REVIEW peoples! OH AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!**


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